I want a new heart,
not this bit of chipped
blue ice. Cracked
asphalt parking lot.
Hard green persimmon,
puckering when someone
else wins something.
Someone else is always
winning something.
My forehead
wears an invisible scar
in the shape of an L,
for loser. I need another
heart, one that can help me face
the thin blue light of television,
disasters scrolling across the screen.
Ahead lies the sea of grief,
where sorrows line up like a set
of waves. Their inevitable crash
on the shore. I want more.
I want a new heart, one that's red
and full of Bight, like this bird
that's singing outside my window,
the one whose only song
is thank you, thank you, thank you.